Insomnia (1/2)
by Libbie
Summary: Scully's having trouble sleeping


Disclaimer 1: Don't own 'em, don't claim to.

Summary: Scully's having sleeping trouble

Timeline: After season 7, minus Requiem. Mulder's still around, Scully isn't pregnant, but they have been "together" since all things.

Category: MSR

Rating: PG

Author's note: I know Scully doesn't have a desk in the office – artistic license

Disclaimer 2: This work in no way infringes Stephen King's novel of the same name.

****

Insomnia

What do you want, Dana?

Scully jerked awake on her couch. Damn, second night in a row. Shaking her head, she flipped off the TV and made her way to bed. After seven years, she had adopted Mulder's habit of falling asleep on the couch. Or of trying to. Last night, she hadn't left the couch out of her unwillingness to sleep alone in the bed she'd shared with her partner the previous two nights. And she hadn't bought that couch for comfort so she hadn't slept well.

Smiling at the memory of her weekend, Scully padded her way towards the bed catching sight of the clock. One –thirty. Great. She'd only slept for an hour but felt oddly awake. Determined to battle that down, she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. A welcome drowsiness flowed over her, but was chased away as the phone rang.

"Hello?" Scully said into the phone, expecting Mulder's voice.

"Hello! This is John from AT&T, are you happy with your current long distance carrier?" asked a smooth, almost liquid voice. 

"You have got to be kidding me," Scully said tersely, "It's nearly two in the morning." Scully switched her light back off after she slammed the phone into its cradle and settled back into her pillow. 

An hour later she gave up. Returning to the living room, she picked up her laptop and carried it back to her bedroom. As long as she was up, she might as well make good use of her time. And if she worked in bed, it would be that much easier to shut down the computer and sleep when she finally tired again.

But she didn't. 

x.x.x.

"Hey , Scully," Mulder greeted her as she walked into their office the next morning.

"Morning," she said, her voice carrying the sluggishness of a sleepless night.

"What's wrong?" Concern furrowed his brow.

"Nothing. I didn't sleep well last night. What's that?" She asked, indicating the file in his hand.

"I finished the report from Friday's interview." Mulder passed it to her for her signature. 

She scanned the pages briefly before signing. "I'm a little surprised you were so quick to write this guy off as a fake," Scully said with a stifled yawn. "I didn't realize you knew so much about vampires."

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. It had been five years. Five years since Kristen and the Trinity. But he'd never told Scully about it. Once she'd returned to him, it hadn't seemed necessary. The Trinity had been destroyed, and there had been no further murders. At times, he could almost pretend that it hadn't happened. Except for the shame that still hounded him, albeit more distantly now. 

"I know, but based on this guy's history in the theatre, I'm fairly sure he's just testing his acting ability. There are some basic tenets of vampire folklore he's ignorant of. When he leaned forward to hand you your water glass, I saw a cross around his neck. Born and raised Catholic, I checked."

"You're the expert," Scully yawned again. "But that still leaves the DC police with a murderer on their hands. Are you saying it isn't him?"

"No," Mulder responded. "I'm saying he isn't a vampire." Mulder shot her a wry smile before continuing. "And it's not an X file. I'm sending it back to Violent Crimes. If they turn up a victim drained of blood, I'll reconsider. As it is, the Markham woman only had bite marks. Not many vampires leave a victim to bleed to death." He stuck the file into an interoffice folder and placed it on his desk.

Scully took it up almost immediately, her fingers lingering on his. "I'll walk it up there."

"You don't have to," Mulder sounded concerned again, and gave her hand a quick clasp.

"The walk will help wake me up. Besides, they make better coffee up there." Scully took the file and headed to the elevator. 

A few hours later, Mulder glanced across the office at his partner. Her blue eyes were hooded, and her head kept nodding towards her chest.

"Scully," he said, breaking the silence. He smirked when her head shot up.

"What? I'm awake."

Mulder chuckled. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? This mess will still be here tomorrow." He crossed over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Acting on impulse, he kicked their office door closed and leaned down to place a kiss on her neck.

"Mulder," she tried to scold, but it came out closer to a moan. "We promised. Not at work." Her actions belied her words as she tilted her head to the side to grant him better access.

"I know," he muttered. He found the sensitive spot beneath her earlobe, and she could feel her pulse increase. "Go home and get some rest," he said again, this time in a whisper, as his mouth neared hers. "I don't want you falling asleep on me this weekend."

"Fat chance," Scully smiled and met his searching lips, already anticipating Friday night. They had both requested time off, Mulder saying he was headed to Massachusetts, Scully claiming she was going to Balitmore. 

But both were going no further than a B and B in Manassas. Their cell phones were staying home so that no one would be able to reach them or interrupt them. For a change.

"Mulder, if I go home and sleep now," Scully broke the kiss and turned in her chair to face him. She'd never guessed in all their years together that Mulder had a mouth capable of turning her insides into oatmeal. 

She cleared her throat and began again. "If I sleep now, I'll wake up in the middle of the night. It'll start a vicious cycle. I have to stay awake until near to my own bedtime to put myself back on track."

"I'd be glad to help with that," Mulder offered, his mouth near her ear again.

"I'll bet you would," Scully sighed.

Just then a knock sounded at the door and they sprang apart like kids in a parked car. 

"Agent Mulder? Agent Scully?" Skinner asked on the other side of the door just before he opened it. "Why do you have the door shut?" he asked.

"Slides, sir," Mulder responded quickly, indicating the slide projector behind them.

"Fine," Skinner said and let it go at that. He knew Mulder lied to him, but he kept it to himself. He would have loved to point out that the machine had no slides in it, that it wasn't even turned on. But he didn't. He knew what was going on between his top agents, just as he knew what a headache it would be if it became common knowledge. 

As long as they remained discreet, he felt no need for the Bureau to know. That didn't stop him from doing everything he could to keep them on guard, he grinned inwardly.

"Tell me what you found out with Darryl Bridges," Skinner said as he perched his hip on Mulder's desk.

x.x.x.

Scully yawned again and checked her watch. Nine-thirty. "Close enough," she muttered, padding again to her bedroom. She climbed under the sheets and sighed in pure contentment as her head hit the pillow. Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

What do you want, Dana?

She opened her eyes and groaned. Sitting up, she checked the clock and slumped her shoulders. Ten-thirty. Damn. She lay back down on the pillow, amazed and dismayed to find herself wide awake.

Scully reached for the phone to call Mulder. But she stopped before her hand connected with it. She knew that if she called, he'd use it as an excuse to come over here. They'd agreed on that too. 

The weekends were their time together, but only the weekends. For now, it seemed the only rational way to keep the change in their relationship a secret from the Bureau. They were watched close enough as it is, if they started arriving at work together it would only fuel the gossip mills further. 

Even though the doctor in her knew that activity would only exacerbate her inability to sleep, Scully left her bed and began to clean her apartment. Two hours later, she had finished. She took a hot shower, drank a glass of warm milk and settled back in under her covers.

Nope. Wide awake. So she pulled her computer onto her lap, and tried searching the internet for insomnia cures. An hour later, and no closer to sleep, she logged off in disgust. The ones that hadn't already been tried and rejected were too odd to even consider.

She was just about to shut down and close her eyes when a sudden crash outside her apartment startled her. Rushing to the window, she pulled up the blinds and raised the glass.

"Is everything okay?" she asked the man, trying not to laugh at the pile of trash was standing in. At least she assumed it was a man. The alley was too dark to discern any features.

"Fine," he answered. "I guess I shouldn't have tried to get that last bag on top," he said sheepishly.

It occurred to Scully that his voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn't give another thought as to why.

And that's just what the man with the trash wanted. 

x.x.x.

"Jesus, Scully," Mulder announced as she made it into their office the next morning. Ten thirty the next morning. "Where have you been? You look like hell."

"Home. Trying to sleep." She said monotone. "I gave up an hour ago." She stopped and turned to look at him when the second comment sunk in. "And thank you so much for noticing how horrid I look."

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it," Mulder crossed to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "This is the second night in a row," he said softly. "Have you thought of seeing a doctor?"

"I am a doctor," Scully snapped back. And it was the third night, she thought. Mulder didn't know she hadn't slept much Sunday night, either. "Besides, what can he do? Tell me to avoid caffeine at night? Drink warm milk? Herbal tea? Take sleeping pills? Use relaxation techniques? I've tried it all and nothing works. I'm fine, Mulder. I'll get through this." 

"If you say so," Mulder returned, feeling slighted at her harsh tone. "There is some good news. I heard from Schwartz in Violent Crimes. They caught our fake vampire with a girl bound and gagged in the back seat, claims he doesn't know how she got there."

"That's original," Scully said, dropping into a chair.

Mulder once again placed his hands on her shoulders. He tried not to flinch when she shrugged his hands off. Wordlessly, he went back to his desk, pretending to study a file. Something was up with her, but he knew better than to push. When Scully said she was fine, she meant it. Even when she wasn't. 

x.x.x.

Later that night, Scully dropped off to sleep at ten thirty, this time on her couch.

What do you want, Dana?

Once again, she jerked awake an hour later. She assumed it was her uncomfortable position, but moving to the bed hadn't helped. Since she'd cleaned the apartment the night before, Scully set about cleaning out her refrigerator. But that only took half an hour and when she finished, she paced.

Pausing in the bathroom for water, she caught sight of her reflection. Mulder was right, she did look like hell. Her normally fair skin had taken on a sickly pallor, broken only by the bruise colored crescents beneath her eyes. Not feeling any better, she shut off the light and resumed trudging around her apartment.

Maybe she should take a walk.

Changing into sweats, she strapped her gun onto her waistband, put on a long jacket to hide her sidearm and headed out. She may be an FBI agent, but she was also a woman planning on walking darkened streets alone. Scully took no chances.

With her mind lacking the needed release it got in sleep, her thoughts kept playing over all that had happened this year: nearly losing Mulder to madness, their first kiss, their leap from partners to lovers a month ago, the possible work-related repercussions of that leap, Skinner's probable reaction to partners as lovers. And so on, she thought grimly.

After six blocks, her head no clearer, she came to an all-night diner. Feeling lonely and in need of human contact, Scully went in and sat at the counter.

"Never seen you in here before," the waitress popped her gum as she approached her. "Can't sleep?"

"How did you know?" 

"Honey, the only people I ever see on my shift are insomniacs," the woman laughed. "What can I get you?"

"Do you have green tea?" Scully asked.

"Sure do. I'll be right back with it. Anything to eat?"

"No," Scully said, along with lack of sleep, she'd been suffering from lack of appetite, too.

Just then, the door's bell heralded the arrival of someone else. Scully felt a little ill at ease when the man chose a seat close to hers.

"I haven't seen you in here before," the man said as he took his seat.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Scully said with sarcasm and shifted slightly, putting her back to him. Once again, she got a vague feeling of familiarity, but dismissed it as fast as it came.

"Hiya," the waitress smiled as she placed Scully's tea in front of her. "What can I get you?"

"An omelette, please," the man answered. "Is it stress?" he asked when the waitress walked back to the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, turning to face him. She was armed, after all.

"Stress. The reason you're not sleeping," he clarified.

"I don't know," Scully said softly, a light going off in her head. "Could be." 

"That's the reason most people develop sudden insomnia," he remarked. 

"Are you a sleep expert?" Scully said with derision.

"Nope, just a chronic insomniac. I'm in places like this all the time. Occasionally I see a new face pop in for a few nights. They usually end up spilling their life stories and then they don't come in anymore."

"I see," Scully held her tea in both hands. "And you expect me to spill my life story to you?"

"No. I was just making conversation. Name's John, by the way," the man smiled, then began eating the omelette the waitress had placed in front of him. Well, eating wasn't exactly right, Scully thought. He was mostly pushing it around his plate.

Scully finished her tea and paid her bill. As she left the counter, the man turned to her.

"Sometimes it's just a matter of asking yourself a simple question," John said. 

"And what would that be?" Scully asked as she turned towards the door.

"What do you want, Dana?" he said smoothly.

Scully stopped walking and turned to face him. "John," she answered blankly.

"Go home, Dana. We have a busy day tomorrow." 

And she did.

end, part 1-


End file.
